


Of Dirt You're Made (and to Dirt You Will Return)

by TheSkyLarkin



Series: SkyLarkin's FebuWhump 2021 Fics [1]
Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Eldritch Beings Do Not Respect the Rules of Grammar and Punctuation, Emotional Hurt No Comfort, Emotional Whump, FebuWhump2021, Gen, Mentioned Ellina (Wanderer's Journal), Mentioned Hollow Knight - Freeform, Mentioned Hornet (Hollow Knight), Mentioned Pale King (Hollow Knight), Mind Control, Plague, Possession, Sleep Deprivation, Survivor Guilt, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-18 19:28:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29123445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSkyLarkin/pseuds/TheSkyLarkin
Summary: The vibrant crystals of the mountain sang with promises of wealth and new beginnings in their bright purple glow, and Myla answered their call.Challenge: FebuWhump 2021Prompts: Day 1 - Mind ControlDay 19 - Sleep DeprivationSee endnotes for comprehensive warnings/tags
Series: SkyLarkin's FebuWhump 2021 Fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2136981
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12
Collections: febuwhump 2021





	Of Dirt You're Made (and to Dirt You Will Return)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [frelioan](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/frelioan)/[fairyneko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairyneko) for beta reading!

The vibrant crystals of the mountain sang with promises of wealth and new beginnings in their bright purple glow, and Myla answered their call.

The mines of Crystal Peak had brought many ambitious bugs to an unfortunate end due to the deadly machinery and steep drops within. (Some with a dark sense of humor liked to joke that the Resting Grounds had been built below the mines for the sheer convenience of not having to drag the unfortunate miner’s carapaces too far.) All the same, many bugs still braved these dangers to mine for the crystals that powered the capital city of Hollownest, hoping to strike it big so that they too might one day have the geo to live a glamorous and easy life among the elite of the kingdom.

Myla was no exception. The plague that had devastated Hollownest had claimed her mother and two sisters, leaving her to fend for herself. The foreman of the mine shot her an unimpressed glare as she strolled up, with a secondhand claw-pick she could barely lift and a newly hatched lumafly safely stowed in her headlamp, and asked for a job. Even after Myla explained that the sickness had left her with nothing and this was her only chance to provide for herself, it seemed as if he was just going to tell her that the mines were no place for a young lady like here and send her away. However, his gaze fell to a pile of beat up and discarded mining helmets, most likely left behind by more of the unfortunate victims of the strange illness.

“Very well,” he relented with a gruff sigh. “It’s not like we can afford to turn away any extra help right now… But just because you’re such a dainty little thing, don’t go thinking that you can get away with working and less than anyone else, you here?”

“Yessir! I’ll work twice as hard as everyone else in the mountain, you’ll see!” Myla chriped back.

Despite his grouchy demeanor, the foreman did seem to have a soft spot as Myla’s first assignment was just outside the entrance to the mines, nearly in the maze of crossroads that connected the capital city to the surface rather than within the mountain itself. The foreman explained that the crystals had grown too close to the highways and she would have to clear out the area before she would be allowed to dig any deeper.

Myla wanted to argue that all of the crystals here were much too small to make any profit from. However, there was a deep sadness in the foreman’s eyes that she could barely make out under his mask that made her voice catch in her throat. Perhaps, like the rest of those who remained in the kingdom, he had seen more death during these dark times than he could stand.

With that sorted out, the foreman turned and headed back into the mountain, leaving Myla on her own again. But at least now she was alone with a purpose, which was more than what she had in the aftermath of finding all of her friends and family dead from the infection.

Though Myla was all by herself at her new post, there was no danger from the once-bustling highways to her back now that the infection brought on by the bright orange pustules had been wiped out. However, the survivors of the plague had yet to recover and resume their old routes through the crossroads, so there was only eerie silence behind Myla as she worked. The only noises in the tunnel were the grunts she made as she tried to swing the claw-pick hard enough to break through the clusters of crystals and the sharp ringing noise as the tool hit its mark. Even the sharp hum of the precious stones was barely audible this far away from the heart of the mountain.

So Myla filled the emptiness around her with song. Her voice echoed through the empty chamber as she toiled, weaving together with the sounds of reinforced bone striking crystal in a strange symphony and making her feel less alone. She liked to think that if she sang enough, the crystals would start to sing back to her, like a duet. Perhaps she’d be able to hear them more clearly, and their voices would lead her to the treasure she was searching for? Or perhaps her yearning for company was simply playing games with her mind. Whatever the reason, her songs echoed through the near abandoned tunnels of the crossroads and into the mountain itself.

* * *

As time went on, it got easier and easier to swing the heavy claw-pick and keep the crystals from fracturing into shards that were too small to be of value. Myla kept up her songs as she worked, paying no mind to the passage of time or the lack of anyone coming to check up on her.

There was something oddly soothing about the repetition of her task, something that took her out of her mind, worn out by an unfathomable grief and worry. Myla simply had no time to dwell on her losses as she toiled away clearing out the crystal clusters. The physical exhaustion drowned out all of the heartache of the past as long as she kept her attention on the soothing glimmer of the crystals and her songs. If she listened hard enough, she could almost hear a voice coming from within the mountain, singing back in perfect harmony.

Though her songs were only meant for her and the crystals, Myla unexpectedly found herself gaining a very small audience. One day she turned around mid-song to see a lone, silent wanderer watching her curiously. Judging by the nail it carried, this bug must have been an explorer from beyond Hallownest descending into the kingdom to see what was left of the remnants now that the infection had faded. But there was something...odd about them, something strange in their unnatural stillness that Myla couldn’t quite find the words for.

The wanderer said nothing to her, even as she timidly tried to strike up a conversation. However once she turned away and went back to her work, they did sit still and listen to her song for a while before continuing on their merry way. Though the encounter was short, it was nice to see the face of another bug down here and to have some proof that she wasn’t alone in these quiet tunnels.

This quiet wanderer passed through a few more times, never uttering a single word. However, they always stopped to hear her sing whenever they were around without fail. Myla couldn’t help but put in a little more effort and volume into her songs when she happened to notice the wanderer watching her. After so much time alone, it was nice to see a familiar face. Plus, they seemed to like her songs! Myla had never enraptured anyone with her singing before; her sisters had always complained about her sounding shrill and off-key. Now she felt like that famous singer from the capital with the magenta wings! Could she become a famous singer like her once she stuck it rich here? Or a famous songwriter?

Even though she already knew that she wouldn’t get a response, Myla told the wanderer about her hopes and dreams for the future in between songs. The silent bug looked back at her blankly, but not in a dismissive fashion. There was some understanding in their empty eyes and they made the tiniest nod of their head at her before dashing off on whatever mission they had come here to complete. Myla had once heard that the bugs who lived outside of Hallownest were feral and simple-minded, perhaps they simply didn’t know how to speak? Maybe she could try to ask next time she saw them.

As the echoes of the wanderer’s footfalls faded from the tunnel, Myla returned to her absentminded singing and mining of the purple crystals. However, she couldn’t help but notice a certain…radiance reflected in the stones that wasn’t there before. Upon closer inspection, the sickly orange light glimmered not from within the crystals, but from the reflections of her own eyes until she blinked and the illusion was dispelled. That had been the gleam in the eyes of her infected family when they had lost their minds to the mysterious sickness and tried to attack her…

With a shudder, Myla tried to get back to work and ignore the strange apparition that she had seen, as well as echoes of a new voice singing along with her…

* * *

This new voice in her head slowly grew louder and louder over time, until it had drowned out the mountain song with its ominous yet intoxicating melody. Myla was having more and more trouble remembering the words and tunes to songs that her mother had taught her, songs that should have been imprinted on her heart. The faint light and heat given off by the nearby crystals grew to a feverish incandescence, as if the tunnel had been set on fire. Her claw-pick suddenly seemed to weigh as much as the entire mountain when she tried to raise it in her shaking hands.

All at once, Myla felt the exhaustion of the countless sleepless nights she had worked through, until time and her sense of self were meaningless concepts. Fatigue enveloped her senses. She just wanted to rest for a moment…

_“Yes… fall into the sweet embrace of sleep… how much longer… how much longer… can you stay awake?”_

Was Myla allowed to sleep on the job? There was no one around to ask. The foreman had never returned to check up on her after all this time, the faint sounds of the other miners working off in the distance had stopped, and no one else came to see her besides her silent wanderer and another strange red bug—probably another visitor from far away—who’d quickly flown past her without a word before she could even realize there was someone else in the tunnel with her.

She was tired, so very tired...The light around her was too bright, the whispers in her head were too loud…

...but she had to keep going, she had to keep mining, she had to keep singing... for the geo, for the fame, for her silent wanderer…

“... how much longer… how much longer… can you resist letting me into your mind, little one?”

...for her dreams…

_“...yes… dream for me… let me in…”_

The harsh orange glow around Myla grew to blinding effulgence, enveloping her vision in searing light as the old god of Hallownest seeped her vast consciousness into the young bug’s mind and claimed it for her own.

* * *

The Radiance had felt the presence of another ghost of the pale king’s folly returning to the ruined kingdom, as if summoned by the desperate cries of her usurper’s failed champion when the Radiance finally managed to break through the seals placed upon it and seep back into the physical realm. Although the hollow knight still managed to constrain most of her power in this world, her light began to permeate once again through the discarded minds of fallen bugs and into the dreams of the living. That was how she became aware of this new arrival: the hideous, churning void within the pale king’s revenant children dreamed somehow, lashing out on base instinct at her when she tried to dispel the chaotic substance as it threatened to stain her beautiful realm with its inky tendrils.

This had been the prison that her greatest enemy had conspired to trap her in, but he had been careless in the end. His hollow knight had begun to dream (of the gleaming white palace in which he was raised, of an existence in which he no longer had to carry the burden of Hallownest and his father’s actions, and of the guilt that this yearning produced) and those dreams had been all the Radiance needed to begin to break free of the seals that bound her. However, her influence in this physical realm was still limited to puppeteering discarded corpses and the bodies of the infected who still lived (for now).

So she tried to subtly steer the undead kingspawn towards the sleeping dreamers that bound the physical form of her own corrupted vessel using these frail bodies and minds awash with her light. How deliciously ironic it would be if the pale king’s own accursed progeny were to be the one to undo the seals that bound her and deliver her from her prison within its corrupted sibling! What a marvelous revenge that would be indeed!

The Radiance watched through the eyes of the lesser beings as this little ghost made of god and void traversed the ruined realm of its father, now bearing the sacred nail she had once gifted to the tribe who had sworn to worship her and her alone before they were seduced away by the pale king. (Traitors! Blasphemers! She should have made certain that she had wiped out every last one of them before the pale king tried to contain her within his nearly-hollow knight.) This relic had the power to free her from her prison, but could just as easily be used to harm her in her own realm—especially with the king’s bastard child attempting to influence the ghost herself!

So she cast her consciousness through the network of minds she had enraptured and watched the undead kingspawn exit the base of the mountain that bore the last remaining monument to her greatness that her nemesis had not been able to destroy at its peak. Now to—

“... how much longer…”

How curious. There was a tiny scrap of consciousness still left in the mind of this particular thrall that stirred as the kingspawn approached it. Even more intriguing was that the ghost was slowing down as it grew closer, almost as if it recognized this particular lesser being. Did it hold some sort of affection for this weak-minded bug? The failed champion of the king was able to feel emotions, as she had amused herself with taunting it for its failures to live up to its sworn duty (which had further increased its doubts and given her more of an opportunity to escape the confines of its shell). Therefore, it stood to reason that its accursed siblings could too. But what could have drawn it to this inconsequential bug?

There was only one way to find out. The Radiance poured a bit more of her consciousness into the tiny fractured mind of her living husk, hoping to see what the memories of this simple bug might hold that could possibly be of interest to the little ghost. But she found nothing of significance in the bug’s scattered thoughts and recollections: a family torn apart, an impossible dream unfulfilled, an attempt to bury heartache by overwork, aching loneliness, a spark of hope from finding a kindred spirit—banal, insignificant bursts of emotion to a higher being such as her!

Briefly, the Radiance did find some glee in replaying the bug’s memories of her shining, burning light running rampant across Hallownest as an infection of the minds cultivated by the pale king. (The fragments of the thrall’s consciousness seemed to shudder at having to witness the denizens of the kingdom fall to the fatal madness once more, but she spitefully enjoyed watching her handiwork from a new vantage point.) After this fleeting amusement had passed, she poured more of her willpower into the husk of the lesser being, overriding what little remained of the original mind to send the thrall into a bloodthirsty frenzy and right towards the pale king’s undead spawn.

_“KILL IT…”_

The thrall lurched towards the ghost and raised its claw-pick on command. However, the Radiance felt a tiny mental tug of resistance from the remnants of an insignificant mind as her vessel froze in place and refused to move.

“... no… I can’t…”

How dare this lesser being, this lowly speck, defy her will!

The kingspawn drew its nail in response to the tool raised against it, but seemed to hesitate as it watched the thrall freeze in place. So this ghost, this empty shell of a being murdered in its infancy and consumed by the void in the hope of creating a perfect vessel, had somehow learned mercy?

Then the Radiance would teach it despair and loss. _“KILL THE EMPTY ONE,"_ she commanded her thrall once more.

“I-I...won’t...I—”

 _“PATHETIC FOOL. YOUR BELOVED “WANDERER” IS A CONSTRUCT MADE FROM A CORPSE REANIMATED BY THE ACCURSED FORCE THAT IS TRAPPED BENEATH THIS FALLEN KINGDOM. IT CANNOT FEEL AN IOTA OF THE AFFECTION THAT YOU FEEL TOWARDS IT.”_ The Radiance felt the thrall’s control begin to slip as the claw-pick shook violently in its grip. _”NOW, JOIN YOUR FAMILY IN DEATH, YOU INSIGNIFICANT HUSK.”_

The Radiance poured her light and fury into the thrall’s mind, filling it to bursting with the pent up frustration she had felt while trapped in a singular mind. Now fully under her control, the husk lurched forwards towards the undead kingspawn, swinging its claw-pick wildly. The ghost tried to back away, but the Radiance maneuvered the thrall in front of it so that it would have no choice but to put this bug out of its misery if it wanted to proceed. Even so, the kingspawn still waited until the very last second to lash out with its nail out in self-defence.

There was just enough left of the original bug’s mind to let out a cry upon receiving the fatal blow. But the Radiance had already moved on to the other puppets and lesser minds in her thrall, paying no mind to the discarded husk her light had left behind once she was satisfied with her petty vengeance.

The ghost looked down at the carapace of the fallen miner for the briefest of moments, head bowed as if in mourning. As the echoes of its footsteps faded from the tunnel once again, the crystals of the mountain continued their eternal song, alone once again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Constructive criticism is appreciated!
> 
> Notes: Title taken from [Rox in the Box by the Decemberists](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wIjugoe2Z80)
> 
> Triggers/Warnings: Canon character death, references to a (canonical) deadly plague, implied survivor’s guilt, unhealthy coping methods, dehumanization (except they’re bugs, so...yeah)


End file.
